Lifeless
by toobeautifulandtragic
Summary: Earth was not the same, the world was not the same. The heaven's cried blood instead of rain, man fought man, and something else…ate all the rest.


_**It wasn't ever supposed to come down to this, he hadn't anticipated losing his heart from his chest but one doesn't ever wait for that particular moment either. That's what Daryl had thought. His chest hurt, it hurt like nothing he'd ever felt before, and that singular moment he realized exactly what to do. His fingers clutched tightly to the cool steel in his hand, finger pressed lightly on the trigger. His brother always said: 'if you gonna hold your finger down on that trigger, boy, you best be shootin' something. Our daddy didn't raise no sissy playin' fool with a big boy's toy.' And Daryl wasn't planning on wasting a bullet on nothing. **_

_**The fight in him was long gone; memories were slowly fading to the background of happier times. Hunting with his brother, cold beers dripping sweat on a hot summer day, roasting game on the fire; those were the days. The days were nothing bled together; the sun went up and down like every other day. But now, he was in a world where even the sun was hiding in the shadows of its own former glory. Earth was not the same, the world was not the same. The heaven's cried blood instead of rain, man fought man, and something else…ate all the rest. **_

_**His hand trembled, shaking as it clutched at the grass next to his knees. Daryl was dirty, rain soaked and muddy, eyes wide open and swollen with tears he thought he didn't have left to cry. It was all over now. Nobody was left. He watched as his friends, family, lover…were torn apart; ripped limb from limb; he shot, killed, destroyed and now he had one last shot. One last bullet and it was meant for one person, and if he had a mirror, Daryl would be staring that man down in the face. **_

_**He awoke that morning to chaos, the camp heralding tortured cries, and that's where he found Rick, fallen to his knees, neck torn apart. He had stood there for a moment and watched that vacant look flicker passed his irises for a moment, before the demon took ahold, before he lost all speck of himself and became what they had all feared of becoming; a walker. He watched as Carl ended what was his father's former life, he watched as Carl missed the shot and was a smear across the green, green grass. And above all, he watched as Shane took down his best friend…and himself in the process, leaving Daryl alone. **_

_**There was a tree in the middle of the field and he was looking at it, staring as it shook in the wind and the rain, slowing down to a light kiss on his muddy cheeks. That tree would always be there, roots buried deep within the ground, that tree would grow to be hundreds of years old, standing alone there in the field, standing proud and tall. What would he be? What would he be recognized for? Nothing, he had done nothing, all he had left were distant memories and new scars, more painful than he could handle. Daryl wouldn't be the tree. Daryl wouldn't be remembered. Daryl wouldn't ever leave an imprint on this world. He was just a nobody trying to make it an apocalyptic world, where there was only one rule; kill or be killed. Nobody told him when he came into this world that you had to read the fine print. **_

_**Daryl glanced down at his arm; the fresh circle imprinted with 32 teeth was pulsing. He'd been bit. He could feel his heart fighting, could feel his body succumbing to the demon inside him, fighting and clawing its way through his nervous system, taking over. Soon, he wouldn't remember a thing, soon he wouldn't remember his first kiss, his last, or his own name. He was going to put a stop to that before he became what they had worked so hard to destroy. The bodies of his friends, who quickly became his family surrounding him, at least they would die together. At least he would die Daryl. **_

_**The wind whipped through his hair and across his cheeks, his eyes flickering up to the sun, about to hide behind big dark clouds. He trembled as the hand clutching the gun shook, it was time. It was coming up fast, the corners of his eyes flooding color and then fading into black, slowing crawling closer to the center of his eyes. He was losing it; the world was pausing, hearing was dropping to a stuttered pulse, heart stop-stopping-clapping against his chest. Daryl Dixon looked up at that beautiful tree, watched the leaves flutter like a thousand butterflies in the breeze and raised his left arm up, up to his cheek, nestling the end of the cool steel to his temple. He let out one final scream, just to prove he still had the fight inside him before he calmed down, the tears he'd been holding back rolling down his face as his eyes stayed locked to the tree as his index pushed the trigger. You wouldn't ever forget the sound of a gunshot if you had ever heard one. It pierced the silence like a knife. The quiet of the field echoing the stab, the body drops like dead weight to the grass, and that's it. No more. **_

_**Rain begins to pour, hammering down on the green grass, matting it down and flattening. Red flows to the side, mouth parted and white enamel smeared in crimson. Dead, the eyes are really dead, hollow and turned toward the sky. From the trees the form tragically dances into the clearing, dragging one foot behind; limp and bone sticking from flesh; hollowed cheeks sucked in, teeth clacking in hunger. He was a somebody once, like the bodies in the field were, like the poor soul who had pulled the trigger on silence and damned a soul that was already bound to a living hell. They were free, they were no longer starving; they had found peace finally. **_


End file.
